


Homework.

by RT Fice (RT_Fice)



Series: A Beetlejuice Valentine. [6]
Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship/Love, Humor, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 12:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RT_Fice/pseuds/RT%20Fice
Summary: This summer, Lydia's feelings shifted to wanting more than friendship from Beetlejuice.  But what that may involve terrifies her.  Creating a seemingly innocent situation, Lydia decides to risk finding out whether she's ready, and whether Beetlejuice's feelings have shifted as well.





	Homework.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate version of "Coming of Age," so some of the elements from that are re-imagined here. In this version, Lydia is younger, having just turned seventeen, and she's not yet off to college. She's also less confident and more conflicted about acting on her sexual desires.
> 
> In case you missed the tag warning, this is sexually explicit.
> 
> Some of the photos I used as references while writing are posted on my Beetlejuice & Lydia blog: https://rtfics.tumblr.com/post/180176167791/homework-a-new-beej-lyds-fanfic

"Watcha readin', babes?"

Lydia knew he'd ask.  Isn't that why she brought the school textbook, even though they were already scheduled to watch _Whose Death Is It, Anyway?_ that afternoon?

_I didn't have an ulterior motivation in bringing my book,_ Lydia lied to herself, vehemently.  _I've studied with him at the Roadhouse lots of times._

_But it's **this** book.  For **that** class_, her rational mind pointed out.  _And you_ know _Jacques and Ginger are going to be gone until late tonight, because they won those Rattle Your Bones Dance-A-Thon tickets._

"Oh," Lydia said, offhandedly, "it's just for biology."

Beej grunted sympathetically, leaning back in the Roadhouse's new communal living room couch.  As a concession to Lydia, who suggested it, Beetlejuice had refurbished the room with a big, wide-seated, deep-cushioned sofa, replacing the hard, wooden one.  Jacques and Ginger had heartily approved.  Even The Monster Across the Street had tried it out, declaring it, "Gol-durn comfy!"

" _Human_ biology," Lydia added. sitting next to Beetlejuice.  His arm was along the back of the sofa behind her, as it had been innumerable times over the years.

"Oh."  The ghost idly picked a beetle leg from his teeth while he watched the screen.  "Like, whut, exactly?"

The textbook had been open to the same page for fifteen minutes.  Lydia swore to herself it wasn't intentional.  But she didn't turn the page or shut the book.

All summer, Lydia had felt the change in the air around them when they hung out.  Last summer she'd never have worn what she was now.  _This_ summer, she hunted and hunted for a very particular style of summer dress.  She found exactly what she wanted in this black, light cotton midi wrap dress.  Lydia assured herself that it _wasn't_ showy, like the things, ALL the things, Claire Brewster wore.  Its sleeves reached down to mid-upper arm and its skirt to mid-calf. It was "casually elegant," the clerk had said.

The neckline.... Okay, it plunged.  But it _was_ for wearing in hot weather.

"Babes?"

Lydia hadn't realized Beetlejuice had been speaking to her.  As she turned toward him the wrap-front of the light dress pulled open slightly.

His yellow eyes fixed on the neckline.  No; on what it revealed.

If Lydia had bought a bra like this in Peaceful Pines it would have been village gossip by dinner.  That she'd brought up wanting such a thing to Delia had shocked her step-mother enough to make her sit down and blink several times.  But when Lydia did it, a week ago, the woman had pulled off her spattered painting smock and declared to Charles that she and Lydia were going to have a Girls Road Trip to Westfarms, "the premier shopping mall" in West Hartford.  Before Charles came out of shock they were in the car.

The moment they located Victoria's Secret in the mall Delia turned and asked, point blank, "So.  Are you straight, gay, bi, or any of the other flavors?"

After choking, Lydia muttered, "Straight."

"What _location_ on the straight spectrum?"

It took Lydia a minute to figure out what Delia meant.  "Pretty...hardcore.  For...men."  She'd been fantasying explicitly about _him_ for six months.  There'd been stirrings before, but it was just general curiosity.  Now it was beyond that.  What she did, alone, confirmed it.

"Oh, god, I was afraid of that," Delia groaned, as if Lydia had just told her she'd lost money gambling.  "WELL, young lady, we're headed to a pharmacy right after this."

" _No!_ "  Lydia glanced around desperately at the shoppers.  She whispered, "I'm not doing _that!_   I'm _not going_ to do _that._   Not...yet."

"Believe me, Lydia, I said the same thing.  Forearmed is forewarned. Or however that goes."  After pulling her long neck upward and scanning around like a paranoid flamingo, Delia ducked back down and whispered, "Do you know what you like?"

"Like?"

"You know."  Delia's finger vaguely circled around her pelvic region.

"I...think?"  Lydia felt her face burst into flame.  She waited for all the other shoppers to stop and point and laugh.

"I know where we're shopping after this."  Delia lifted a forefinger of finality as Lydia's mouth opened in protest.  "Tut tut tut!  I _insist_."

The girl didn't know whether her step-mother saying _tut tut tut_ was more unbalancing than she herself confiding anything about her intimate feelings to her.

Delia was never so happy as when she was bossing around store clerks.  Lydia felt for the girls, who were only a year or two older than she was.  The store manager, a slender woman close to Delia's age, swooped in with an explosion of long, curly, white-blonde hair and breasts that made Lydia afraid.  With an enthusiasm for serving equal to Delia's in being served, between them they manipulated Lydia like a mannequin, lifting her arms and wrapping a tape measure above, across, and below her bust.  Bras in a head-spinning array of colors and materials were offered.  The manager declared Lydia didn't need push-ups or pads, but support "would be good," and maybe a push- _together_ for better show, since, she exclaimed to everyone in the shop, "As big as good-sized ruby grapefruit, full and round!  Her cleavage is to die for!"

Lydia supposed this would flatter other girls.  But it made her want to run into a changing room and gnaw off her own foot.

"Voila!" Delia cried, holding aloft a neon blue lace bra.

"Mother, it's called a 'Jezebel Embrace Backless Convertible Extreme Plunge Push-Up Bra.'"

"Perfect!  It has _every_ thing!"

"Delia, it's called _Jezebel_.  Do you know the _definition_ of _Jezebel_?"

"Lydia, we're not religious."

They settled on a red lace Very Sexy Pushup Bra.  As she took the very pink bag that screamed VICTORIA'S SECRET, Lydia wondered why on earth she even wanted such a frilly thing.  _She_ didn't really care what her bra looked like.

A bra like this...you wanted someone _else_ to see it.

_I **don't**_ **,** Lydia barked internally, and slammed a door on the thought.

When Delia parked outside _My Magic Wand_ shop, Lydia yelled, "Oh my god!  NO!  I am NOT!"

Both hands on the wheel, her forefingers tapping, Delia looked at the girl the way a police officer looks at someone holding a spray can in front of fresh graffiti.

"That's...It's..."  Lydia looked away.

"What?  Dirty?  Nasty?"

The girl turned to her step-mother and her rapping fingers.  " _Scary_."

To the girls' surprise, Delia's fingers stopped.  Her expression softened with what looked like sincere empathy.  "I know.  Isn't it just?  The scariest goddamn thing in the world.  When you think about what we want to do with men, and what that entails...Well.  It sounds so _invasive_ and _violent._   How _can't_ it be terrifying?"  Her impressive jaw set stolidly.  "That's why it's up to we women to experiment.  Not jump in the deep end.  Believe me, Lydia, males will try to drive you like a _car_ if you let them.  All their lives they're told _they_ are what give women org-- yes, I'll say it, _orgasms._   As if they even have a clue!  Women need to learn exactly what we as individuals enjoy, what gets us there, if you take my meaning, and we must demand that's what we get, or we walk away!  Understand?"

Stunned, Lydia squeaked, "I think so."

"So!  We'll browse.  You don't have to bring anything home.  If you do, and it's still too soon to experiment, you just put it away until you're ready"

No one in the store stared at her, even though she was the only teenager.  It was as if it was the most normal thing in the world for a sixteen-year-old girl to look at and even handle things that resembled something from the anime porn Bertha had shown her, which had made Lydia jump away from the laptop, yelling, "Are you _kidding?!_   BERTHA!"

_Purple. With silver sparkles_.  Lydia blinked at the thing, which had three branches of various lengths and thickness.  She had no idea what you were supposed to do with it, but it was certainly festive.  She imagined bedecking it with ribbons.

As if Lydia wasn't nervous about the whole idea in the first place, some of the "toys" looked like weapons.  Some looked like they were built to inseminate elephants.

Many required batteries.  Lydia doubted she wanted anything electrical in that part of her body.

_I wonder if any of them play music?_ Lydia mused.

She halted in front of a glass display case.  Her breath caught.

One on the top shelf looked like.... _him_.

Beetlejuice and Lydia were so comfortable and relaxed around each other that they weren't in the least self-conscious about how they dressed.  Lydia had seen Beej in a tank top and shorts, even a bathing suit.  She'd never thought anything of it.  Until this year.

She noticed, for the first time, that sometimes Beetlejuice was so oblivious to her being a girl that he didn't wear underwear under his striped pants.  Six months ago, they'd been watching _Law & Odor._  While laughing at one of the detective's clever quips, the ghost, who was wearing all his signature clothes except his jacket, had draped his right leg over the couch's arm.  At first Lydia, in mid-laugh, had stared at his beer gut as it jostling heartily.  She suddenly wanted to put her hand on it.

Then.  Below.  The striped material had pulled snugly.  Shapes were accentuated.  If this had ever happened before, neither of the two best buddies had noticed.  This time, sixteen-year-old Lydia stared.

Her first thought was, _That's so tight, doesn't it hurt?_ Her next was incoherent and intense.  His length, his thickness, were revealed under the white stripe of his pants.  And a globe beneath the -- she'd actually thought this, having nothing else to compare it to -- the kielbasa-shape with the knob end, was large.

Lydia had looked away so fast she spilled her popcorn.

"What's got into ya?" Beetlejuice had chuckled, kidding, watching her on her hands and knees on the floor, picking up popcorn and keeping her red face concealed behind her hair.

From that night, and many, many nights until today, Lydia had thought _, What do I want into me? **You.**_

The dildo at _My Magic Wand_ looked exactly like what Lydia had seen six months before, except if it were... Lydia didn't think "aroused" sufficiently described the thing.  She couldn't think what did.

" _This one_ ," she told the clerk, quietly.

Delia's eyebrows lifted when she saw Lydia's selection.  "Good choice."

_Oh my god, if you ever knew, Mr. Beetleman would never be allowed in the house again_ , Lydia thought as she took her purchase.  _Father would **kill** him. Well, try to._

For three days Lydia hadn't taken the dildo from its box under her bed.  On the fourth day she looked at it, but the idea of doing anything _with_ it...  She couldn't.

"What're you _scared_ of?" asked Bertha, who'd been keeping a detailed diary, complete with selfies, of the fairly adventurous exploits she'd had since she was fifteen.  "Don't you use tampons?"

Lydia had fallen face first on Bertha's bed and groaned with embarrassment.  She'd told Bertha and Pru about the dildo.  She _didn't_ tell them who she thought it resembled.

"It's kind of different from using a tampon," said Prudence, in Lydia's defense.

" _Pru_ dence, you're Ace," said Bertha, "so how do _you_ even know?"

"Ace doesn't mean ignorant."  Prudence, sitting on the carpet, closed the _Human Biology & Health_ textbook they were studying.  "Not everyone is ready to have sexual intercourse.  Even with _plastic_."

"Silicon," muttered Lydia, face down in the comforter.  She turned her face toward her friends and sighed miserably.  "Am I a baby?"

"Yes," Bertha declared, not unkindly.

"No," said Prudence, even firmer.  "You're going at your own speed.  What you told us about your present," they had all agreed that's what it would be called, in case adults, siblings or other kids overheard, "it sounds....big.  Maybe you should have gotten a...a skinny one?"

Bertha brayed, slapping her palms on her knobby knees.  "They have training bras, they need training dildos!"

Lydia threw a pillow at her, which Bertha easily dodged.  "You are so absolutely gross."

"Your fingers are your training dildos, stupid.  You use your _fingers_ , doncha, Lydia?  What's so different?"

"Ugh, I'm sixteen and I can't even talk about this!  _Why?"_

"You're your father's daughter."  Prudence, whose mother was a psychologist, pushed up her glasses.  "You said that if you even mention birds and bees in the same sentence he has to apply a cold compress to his forehead."

"I'm scared and I'm not scared."  Lydia sat up.  "I do use my..."  She wiggled the fingers of her right hand.  "But, they're not as big around, and I don't go...deep."  She covered her face with her hands.  "Kill me, just murder me here and now, so I don't have to face this any more."

"Is some guy pressuring you?" Prudence asked, with concern.

"No!  _M_ _y body_ is pressuring me," Lydia said, angrily. "My body is the worst sexual harasser I could have, because I can't get a restraining order against it!"

"Gosh."  Prudence shook her head.  "You guys make me so happy I'm Ace."

Bertha ruffled the smaller girl's hair so hard her glasses shook.  "At least you figured it out before you _did_ anything," she said.  "Lydia, it's not like you can't _wait_."

Trying not to sound like she was five, Lydia asked, "Bertha, doesn't it _hurt_?"

"Naw, 'cuz I already had lots of practice with my own present _my_ mom will _never_ know about, ever!  Besides, the first time the boy lasted, like, fifteen seconds.  Your _present_ should last longer than that!"  Bertha guffawed.

"You were only fifteen!"

"I don't go around _bragging_ about it.  I only tell you guys."  The tall girl grinned around her overbite  " _And_ my supplier, my uncle the pharmacist."

"You have to be careful, Lydia."  Everyone at school thought Prudence was timid, when the truth was she over-analyzed situations, which often paralyzed her actions until she finished considering all the scenarios.  "You could be with a guy who won't take no for an answer."

That night, Lydia considered Prudence's point.  The one thing she felt around Beetlejuice, who was the most dangerous power she knew of, was safe. Buying the bra and the dress, and a pair of low heel black shoes, wouldn't have happened if Lydia didn't feel absolutely certain that he'd never hurt her.  And if,  just two months ago, she hadn't glimpsed him glimpsing her as she was shutting her bedroom window.

As usual, Beetlejuice was floating in mid-air over her bed.  They'd been discussing Claire's latest snottiness.  The wind had picked up, shifting the items on the bureau next to Lydia's bed.  She got up to close the window, thinking nothing of not wearing a bra, because, well, her shirt was baggy, and they were just talking, and she hadn't wanted to interrupt him in order to go to her bathroom and put one on.  As far as she was aware, he didn't even know she owned one.

The wind was strong and turning chilly as the sun set.  Lydia lifted her arms to pull down the window, but paused to watch the sunset as it gilded the village.

"Isn't it glorious?" she asked.

Beetlejuice's voice was throaty, deep, and strained, as if the words forced themselves out.  "They sure as hell are."

Startled by his strange voice, one she'd never heard from him before, Lydia realized she glowed gold from the brilliant sunset.  The wind was blowing her t-shirt against her breasts, and her nipples were hard from the cool air.  He was staring right at them.

Beetlejuice had never had an expression like that.  Not even when she'd watch him admire women in the Neitherworld.  His eyebrows formed an evil V over eyes that looked like molten gold.  A wicked, ravenous smile widened over his teeth, which were developing points. He looked predatory.  He looked _lustful_.

It didn't frighten her at all.  It thrilled her.

The instant Beetlejuice's eyes met her astonished ones that smile shattered.  In a rush, his words fell over each other. "Gotta go do somthin' see ya later babes," and he dove through her mirror to the Neitherworld. The mirror went black as he apparently covered it.

Lydia didn't hear from him for two days.  She was both massively irritated and relieved.

Now, here on the Roadhouse's new couch, Beetlejuice quickly turned away from Lydia and focused on the screen.  "SOoooo....... Textbook.  Class. Studyin'.......an' stuff."

"I have to do an assignment for this class," Lydia blurted.  She pushed the textbook across the couch to him.

_Human Biology & Health_ was open to an anatomical cross-section drawing of "the male reproductive system." Little arrows pointed at the various components of a flaccid penis and limp testicles, here and there labeling them Corpus cavernosum, corpus spongiosum, and the bulbourethal gland.   It looked like something you'd see in a butcher's shop.

Beetlejuice gulped so hard his Adam's Apple jerked.

"The textbook is no help at all," Lydia stated, annoyed. "It's all cold, dry facts.  It's like reading a plumbing manual.  'Part A fits into Part B.'  It doesn't talk about _feelings_ at all.  I mean, how it feels emotionally, psychologically, and physically.  And it doesn't say a thing about what male bodies do."  She scanned Beetlejuice for a response.

Beetlejuice had a small coughing fit.  He loosened his tie and undid the top two buttons of his magenta shirt.  His eyes refused to part from the TV.  "Well. Yeah.  Assignment."  His grating voice sounded as if his throat was lined with gritty sandpaper.  He tightly crossed his legs, his left boot rapidly jiggling.  "About whut?"

Lydia replied, with feigned calm, "Whether penises really get as hard as they say they do."

Beetlejuice was on his feet so fast he startled the girl and knocked the textbook to the floor.  He coughed again, this time quite obviously forced.  "Gotta get a non-alcoholic beverage," he announced, heading toward the kitchen.

"You _can_ drink beer," Lydia said as he passed her.

"I don't drink booze around children."

This was a blatant lie, and he had to know she knew it.  Lydia snapped, "There are no _**children** here_."

Beetlejuice screeched to a halt at the kitchen door.  After a second's hesitation, he dashed in.

The girl suppressed the tears threatening to gather.  _Why am I upset?  What's **wrong** with me?  God, I'm so **stupid**!  _Her own throat went so dry she rose to get one of the Cokes that were kept on supply for her in the fridge.

Lydia almost collided with Beetlejuice at the kitchen door.  They went rigid, facing each other, an inch apart.

Even with one-inch heels, Lydia stood a head shorter than Beetlejuice.  Staring straight ahead, she saw, past the unbuttoned top of his shirt and the loosened knot of his tie, blond chest hair.

Slowly, Lydia closed her eyes and leaned forward.  Her nose brushed against the hair.  She inhaled.  Deeply.  She shuddered.  She did it again.

She barely heard Beetlejuice's deep, low, _very male_ whisper. "Whut are ya doin'?"

Lydia placed her palms against his chest and opened his shirt wider.  Her nose nuzzled his chest hair as her breath warmed it.

She felt Beetlejuice's fingers ever so cautiously touch the hair hanging across her left cheek.  Trembling, they pushed it back, his thumb caressing her hot skin.  Lydia's half opened gaze drifted upward.

The fervor of his yellow eyes would have frightened anyone else.  His nostrils flared and contracted.  Lydia's eyes shut.  Her lips parted with a barely audible sound and pushed against his palm as his hand moved to gently but firmly grip her chin.  His thumb slid across her lower lip.

The fingers of his other hand stroked up and down the dip of her waist.  Hypnotically.

Lydia pulled her face from his shaking hand. "No."  She pinched both magenta cuffs of his shirt and haltingly pulled his hands down and away from her.  Her nose drew circles in his chest hair as she stated with a very mature, resolute tone, "I'm the Researcher.  You're the Test Subject."  She anxiously swallowed to moisten her arid mouth.  "For my assignment."

The ghost's chest moved like a barely controlled bellows. His hardened nipples rose against the magenta material.

_He has nipples?_ Lydia was astonished. _Why haven't I noticed them until now?_

Beetlejuice's voice sounded like a rusty hinge thirsty for oil. "Okay."

"In research..."  Lydia's lips felt like they were swelling.  It was disconcerting, but she liked it.  Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she continued, inventing as she went, because she had no idea what she was doing, "In experiments, the researcher sees if and how the test subject  reacts to stimuli.  The test subject can't touch the researcher back.  The subject is only allowed to receive stimuli."

"Okay."  Lydia could tell he was mulling over the situation she'd created.  "Am I... Is th' test subject allowed t' talk?"

"Yes."  Lydia enjoyed this.

Beetlejuice bent his head toward her and looked her in the eyes. For the first time since she'd met him, he spoke with seriousness that sounded like the thirty-seven-year-old man he was. "Th' researcher is too young fer this kinda experiment."

Lydia bridled self-consciously.  "The researcher thought the test subject didn't _have_ any rules."  She sounded pouty, and hated it.

"Th' test subject _doesn't_." Beetlejuice snorted indignantly, as if his dishonor had been insulted.  He conceded in a murmur, "Except... about th' researcher."

Lydia lifted her chin so she seemed taller, and asserted her own indignation.  "The researcher rejects that restriction, since the researcher is seventeen."

" _Just turned_ seventeen.  A _week_ ago."

"So, does the test subject want the experiment to _not_ happen until after the researcher's _twenty-first_ birthday or something?"

"Th' test subject never thought he'd be _doin_ ' _any_ experiment...of _this_ kind...with..."

Lydia prodded, "Until recently?"

Beetlejuice gazed at her and pursed his lips.  "Ya noticed."  There was no guilt or regret in his voice.  The right corner of his mouth twitched.  "Didn't think ya had.  So, whut, then?"  The twitch unfurled into a sly, ironic smile.  " _You're_ gonna entice _me_ t' break th' one an' only rule I ever had?"

Parodying a haughty sniff, but sincere, Lydia stated,  "In science the test subjects don't make the rules.  Researchers do.  And this researcher has determined that she has the authority and autonomy to conduct this experiment."

"Ooo, pullin' out _all_ th' big words."  Beetlejuice smirked, not mockingly, but with reigniting heat.  "I'm willin' t' be yer guinea pig.  _Only_ in th' interest of science an' th' researcher gettin' a good grade in Biology, y'understand."

Lydia spoke with the tone she'd heard her father's attorney use several times during discussions of real estate contract negotiations.  "Then we can proceed."

Beetlejuice looked impressed.  "Yes, Ms. Researcher."

With confidence she didn't actually feel, the girl took hold of the ghost's tie and led him back to the couch.  "If the test subject will be seated."

He sat down and looked up at her like an obedient dog keenly awaiting commands.

Lydia knelt and unlaced his right boot, and, with some difficulty, pried it off.  The left boot followed, then both socks.  She stood and tossed them aside.

Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow.  "Yer gonna give me a foot massage?  Not that I'd say no, but not sure it'll give ya the evidence ya want."

"I know what I'm doing." It was a complete lie. Lydia apprehensively glanced at the front door.

Beetlejuice grinned like a child who'd gotten away with stealing candy.  "They'll be gone fer hours."  With a flick of his right forefinger, the door locked securely.  "But, t' be sure... we could conduct this experiment in _my room_."

"No.  The researcher isn't ready for.... a lab that...intimate."  Lydia checked his expression, afraid that he would interpret this as rejection.

The ghost's smile reassured her that he felt quite the contrary.  "It's fine, babes, I mean, researcher.  This'll go at whutever speed ya want."

Forgetting her role-playing, Lydia lost herself as she looked down at the older man sitting before her, his hands flat on the couch cushions on either side of his hips.  Beetlejuice leaned back and splayed his legs wide, watching her watching him.  She could sense he wanted her to take a good look, and that his composure was straining.  That he was making the effort in order to respect her skittishness emboldened her.

As gentle as a floating feather, Lydia lowered herself between his legs until she was kneeling on the edge of the couch.  The hem of her dress had risen enough so that her bare knees touched the upper part of his thighs. His breath caught.  She held hers.

Her fingers became clumsy stumps as she struggled to undo his tie.

"Ya want me to?"  Beetlejuice's voice was eager, but deferential.

"No," Lydia commanded.  "I'll do it.  The subject just has to...react."

His thin black tie, undone, slid to the floor.  His shirt buttons were stubborn, but one by one complied.  Lydia felt if she paused for even half a second her courage would crumble, so, with urgency, she grabbed his shirt and pulled it out of his pants.  It fell open.

Lydia had always loved their hugs, her face pressed against his chest as his arms enfolded her snugly.  She'd felt so loved, so treasured, in his gentle embrace.   As many times as Lydia and Beetlejuice had annoyed and lost their tempers with each other, including that one, terrible day when she refused to speak to him until he finally apologized, in his own fashion, there was never any doubt, in her mind, at least, that he cared for her above any person he'd ever known.  She felt the same toward him.  So, without hesitation or self-consciousness, she'd often spontaneously grabbed him and squeezed him tightly.

The girl did that now, but with a new avidity.  Throwing her arms around his torso, she clenched him fiercely.  Instead of pressing her cheek to his clothed chest, she pressed her lips to it bare.  The smell she knew so well, earthy, pungent, had fresh, heady tones in her nose as her kisses moved from the center of his chest outward, toward the blonde hair under his arms.  Pausing only to wonder why she had never perceived the deep bluish-purple of his nipples before, she kissed first his left, then his right.  Her lips left a trail of vehement kisses down to his gut, and back and forth across it, as her hands slid, timidly, down his back.

Beeltejuice emitted a short laugh that snapped Lydia out of her passionate haze.

His eyes were effulgent gold.  She couldn't read his expression turbulent with joy, shock, and rapaciousness.

Lydia's cheeks burned as she looked aside and released him.  "It's silly, what I'm do--"

"Babes.  _Look at me_."  The firmness of his voice halted her and made her face him.  His expression intentionally fixed her eyes on his.  "Ya know...."  His lids lowered half-way, like blinds shielding innocent eyes from brazen sunlight.  His dry, catching voice lowered in volume as well.  "Ya _know_ I'm an experienced man."

"Yes," she responded with a shallow breath.  During their many adventures in the Neitherworld Lydia had seen her best friend hit on women of all ages, shapes, and sizes.  The universal response was stabbing insults, with an occasional punch in the nose.  As a kid, she hadn't really thought about what he was after.  He was a grown man, and grown men dated.  It seemed natural and straightforward.  Only twice in all those years had Lydia turned to her bureau mirror and seen it absolutely black.  This was a signal they both used, the equivalent of a hotel's Do Not Disturb sign.  Lydia hadn't speculated that perhaps, _perhaps_ , a woman hadn't socked him in the jaw.  But her imagination never wandered toward what he and such a woman might be doing, beyond having a drink together.  That is, until recently.

Lydia looked away again, embarrassment digging into her cheeks like thumbnails.  "I'm...I can't... It's laughable that I'm trying---"

Beetlejuice's hand cupped her sinking chin and raised her face to see his.  " _Listen t' me_.  What I did, there never was a lotta kissin' goin' on. Sometimes none.  It was pretty much cut to th' chase."  He paused, inhaled deeply as if about to plunge off a high dive, and continued, "I've never had anyone kiss me like you do.  An' never _there_.  I laughed cuz, th' idea of, " his right hand explored her hair, " _my babes_ wantin' to, even _thinkin'_ of, doin' this, t' _me_..."  Another short laugh of astonishment escaped.

Relieved, Lydia pushed her face against his palms that held it, his fingers massaging away her embarrassment. "I've wanted to for so long, "

Beetlejuice blinked, as if his brain couldn't process this. "Whut?"

"For half a year."

His nostrils expanded widely and exhaled deeply.  "That explains a lot.  I thought I was gettin' signals, but I couldn't believe it."  His voice was libidinously guttural as he whispered,  "I believe it now, aw fuck yeah, I _do_.  Signal's comin' in loud an' clear, my babes.  Speakin' of _cumin' in_..."  Slowly, the poltergeist drew Lydia upward, toward his mouth.

Shivering with anxiety, Lydia pulled back.  Beetlejuice looked baffled as she rapidly pulled on her persona.  "I...the researcher isn't ready to...for..."

Beetlejuice smile was wry with frustration, but Lydia saw he was trying his best to rein himself back.  "Th' test subject is willin' to remain within th' dictated perimeters of th' experiment."

With a feigned professorial air, Lydia returned his hands, palms down, on either side of him.  Still kneeling on the couch's edge between his wide-spread thighs, she touched her right fingertips to her dress' neckline.

"I bought this...as an aide in the experiment."

There was more an approval in his eyes, but he emanated hesitation, as if worrying that expressing what he felt might cross her shifting boundaries.  Lydia herself had no idea what she was going to do until she curled her fingertips around the neckline and said,  "And...this."

Holding her breath, she pulled open her dress and exposed the red-lace bra as far as her stiffened nipples.  The rounded tops of her breasts were flushed.

The ghost made a choking sound.  His tongue tip slithered from his parted lips, glistening with saliva. " _Lyds_..." His biceps clenched as if he were holding himself down.

Lydia hadn't prepared herself for this response, or for any response.  It was only six months since she'd began wondering if men -- no, _this man_ \-- might find her attractive in any way, let alone sexually.

Excitement, joy, and, god, yes, horniness, surged through her.  But confidence stumbled behind.  "So...the test subject finds this to be okay?"

"Okay?!"  Beetlejuice gave a bark of incredulity.  "If th' researcher wants t' check for _solid evidence_ , look down. _**Look down** , Lyds._"

In order to see where his eyes were indicating, Lydia stood up and looked down.

A enormous bulge struggled against his zipper.

"That's _hard_ evidence, babes."  His voice was husky. "Harder than it's _ever_ been, Before or After, I swear t' god."

Marveling at the pulsating bulge, Lydia lowered her knees to the rug.  Her breasts were level with his crotch.  Beetlejuice's knees jerked inward, then out, as, she could tell, he was fighting to play his assigned role and not grab her.

Lydia closed her eyes and kissed the zipper, whose teeth looked about to pull apart.  A groan rippled from the ghost's gut through his tight throat.  She glanced up, saw him watching her, and kissed all over the rise.  It's resistance indicated what was in there was not flaccid at all.

Her own crotch heated, with an interior itch demanding to be prodded.  "I have to see the evidence for myself," she murmured.

With one tug his zipper was open.  Beneath were the red briefs with a green beetle pattern Lydia had seen on the floor in front of his open bureau drawer, or draped over his lampshade.  Now the material was overtaxed by its contents, which formed an outline she'd seen in his trousers before, except this time it was fuller, the details sharper.

Carefully, she tucked her fingertips under his brief's elastic, taut from the pressure.  _Am I really going to do this?  Am I really going to see him, what I've wanted to see of him, and see him **hard**?_

"Babes," he whispered, "it's all fer _you_."

As if he sensed what she was going to do, he drew his thighs together as she yanked downward, so his briefs easily slid past his knees and down to his ankles.  She yanked off the man's underwear and trousers and threw them aside.

"Oh..."  With a kittenish moan, Lydia's stare explored the thick, veined shaft stabbing upward from under the triangle of wavy blond hair..  The bulbous knob topping it was purplish-red.  A moist jewel emitted from its tiny slit.  The textbook's illustration of testicles had depicted them as lopsided, dangling sacks.  Beetlejuice's held high and round under the root of his cock, ridged with tension and lightly covered in fine, yellow hair.

Lydia trembled, feeling her vagina moisten sympathetically.  He was all she imagined, and more, a _lot_ more.  Carefully, having no idea how sensitive it might be, and fearing her enthusiasm might hurt him, she wrapped her right hand around the shaft.  Her fingertips didn't quite meet.

"Oh _gawd_ ," Beetlejuice groaned, his nails digging into the sofa cushion.

"I never thought it could get so _hard_."  Lydia squeezed it.  It spasmed, and another drop emerged from the slit.  "It moved," she breathed, amazed.

"That's whut ya do t' me, beautiful."  Beetlejuice had never called her that before.  She could tell by his impassioned voice that he wasn't trying to flatter her just so she'd continue.  As the man leaned back with his eyes hooked on what she was doing, Lydia's uncertain but craving right hand palmed his cock's end.  She spread the precum over it.

"That's..."  The girl moved her palm from his knob down his cock, feeling the slickness coat it.  "That's to help it _go in_."

At the word _in_ , his cock jerked again.

" _That_ wouldn't be enough lube, not to _go in_ you."  The tip of the poltergeist's tongue licked his lips as he breathed, "First, I'd do _whutever_ ya like t' get ya _juicy_."

That ache, her maddening ache, made Lydia's vagina clench deep inside in conjunction with his cock's twitches.  Her clit stiffened.  _I'm not ready.....for that._   She caressed the shaft.  _Could I ever be ready for this huge thing?_

Lydia stroked down.  He panted.  She grasped it with both hands and moved them in tandem, up, down.

"Ah fuuck yeah, work it, work my cock," With burning eyes over a lecherous grin, his tongue coiled out, his nails scratched the sofa.

"Is this what you do?" Lydia's voice was as gentle and hot as blue flame as she stroked.

"Yeeessss."

She scooted closer, so his cock was aligned with, but not touching, her cleavage.  She reveled in his shudder and huge eyes.  "What do you think about?"

"Since this summer," it was a ravenous hiss, " _you_."

Lydia stopped.  She wanted her secret wish confirmed. "This summer?"

"Ya think I didn't notice yer change?  I didn't, fer awhile.  But then, th' day ya went t' shut yer window... Ya remember?"

"Oh, yes."

"Thought ya would.  Cuz ya saw it in my eyes, didn't ya?  No way ya couldn't.  Seeing my babes had transformed from a beautiful, stick-straight kid t' _ripe_ an' _hot.'_ "

Lydia never imagined she'd had that effect on him, but, after that day, she'd hoped.  "You jerked off then?"  Picturing it made her vagina fervid.

"Th' second I dove through yer mirror, ya better believe I did."

"Like _this_?"  Lydia's hands moved faster, the way she'd fantasied about him.

"Harder.  _Tighter_. As tight as I bet _you_ are."

Lydia clenched, her right hand quickening its rhythm to match her breathing.  She was anxious to ask, in case his fantasy involved something she didn't want to hear, but she had to know.  "Tell me what you thought."

His nostrils expanded, his eyebrows slipped into that evil V again above his lascivious eyes.  He spoke like a starving man describing his dream feast.  "I wanted t' grab ya an' throw ya on th' bed, rip off yer clothes, lick an' suck ya till you were drippin' juice an' beggin' me, an' then I'd shove _this_ in."  His hips thrust his cock in her tight fist.

Lydia, recalling one of Bertha's movies, raised her mouth toward the top of his cock.

Beetlejuice sat up as if he'd been stabbed.  "Babes!  _No._ "

He was so frantic Lydia froze, alarmed.

The ghost's expression mixed distaste and discomfort.  He settled on inscrutable.  "Th' test subject's got a phobia about havin' a circle of teeth around his most precious object.  Maybe someday I'll explain.  But not now."

Lydia's fever shoved her curiosity into the back of her libido and locked the door.  She was relieved that she wasn't going to find out if she'd choke on him.  But her lips longed for his cock as it turned a deep shade of maroon.  "Does the test subject have any objection to licking?"

Beetlejuice gulped.  "None."

Hesitantly, fearing what his cock might taste like, Lydia's tongue tip flicked.  He had a barely perceptible saltiness, like sweat.  Its stiffness astounded her.  She closed her eyes and drew a long lick up his length.  Beetlejuice swore incoherently and his head fell back.  The last of Lydia's nervousness vaporized,  Her right hand pumped him while her lips and tongue massaged.  Her left hand carefully cupped his balls and kneaded them.  Beeltejuice's rear lifted and a robust gurgle pushed from his gut, then he fell back down as his hips began to shove against her down-stroke.

"Lyds.  Look at me."

Lydia knew, now, how her gazing at him through her long, thick lashes, made him react.  Sure enough, his cock convulsed.

"Is th' researcher hot?" he asked, hoarsely.

"Yes."

"Are ya _horny_?"

" _Yes_."

"Is yer sweet button hard an' achin'?"

How did he know?  Of course, he'd know.  Lydia nodded.

Beetlejuice moved his bare right leg between her legs.  He lifted slightly, so that his shin was against her crotch.

"Rub it.  C'mon, babes.  Rub yer ache."

Unsure whether this would be comfortable, Lydia maneuvered over him.  "My panties are in the way."

" _Take them off_."

Pulling them down caused the girl to bend forward, toward his groin.  She kissed and sucked around his cockhead as she pulled off her panties, red lace to match her bra.  She dangled them in front of his face, then placed them on the ghost's gut. Grabbing them, he covered his nose, inhaling as if huffing oxygen because he was nearly drowning.

"They're soakin' wet."  Beetlejuice's striped tongue licked the material like Percy licked cream.  The sight made Lydia's clit react as if his tongue were stroking it instead of what had just been covering it. Watching her, a grin, wet at the corners, spread his mouth.

Lydia shifted her pelvis backward so her clit touched his hairy shin.  Skeptical, because she'd never done anything like this, she tenderly rubbed.

She let out a mew of surprise and delight.  He moved his leg up and down in opposition to the rhythm of her hips.

Beetlejuice's foot raised enough to find her slit.  Lydia gasped.  _His big toe, his big toe is_...  "Oh my _god_!"

The poltergeist's tongue circled his mouth as his big toe lodged in her vagina's entrance.  He tweaked it. Lydia sucked in air, her eyes clenching shut so she could savor the feeling.  "Holy fuck, yer pussy's droolin'."  Lowering his leg again, his hips pushed as her right hand clung to his cock. "My knee's between yer gorgeous, perfect tits."  His cock quaked.  "Feel that?  That's whut yer _stimuli_ does t' me."

Ecstatic, Lydia confessed, "I want it to!" Immersed in her own devilish thirst, she squeezed his shin between her thighs while massaging her clit, alternately whuffing and kissing his cock.

"Jeezus fuck, my beautiful babes.  Whut're _you_ thinkin'?"

The girl wanted him to know, finally, fully, now that she knew she wouldn't be laughed at.  "What I always do."

" _Tell me_."

Eyes on his cock, she spoke aloud the fantasy she'd masturbated to for half a year.  "You, naked, in my bed, on top of me, between my legs."  Picturing it, Lydia grasped him with both hands and rubbed both him and herself with more intensity.  Her clit was swollen past what it had ever been before.  She whimpered.

The sound made Beetlejuice emit a whine.  He matched her speed.  " _More_. _Tell me all of it_."

"You thrusting your cock into me... _hard.  Fast_."

"We can make that happen," Beetlejuice panted.  "Here.  Now."

The thickness her fingers couldn't quite close around beat out her begging vagina.  "No, not yet...I'm not ready."  She felt like crying.  "I'm stupid, I'm sorry--"

" _No_ , babes, _never_ be.  It's okay, babes, that's fine... but think of it.  Think about this fat cock pushing into ya, slow, cuz yer so damn tight, me on top of ya, shoving in an 'out... '"  Beetlejuice's hips demonstrated the motion while his leg pressed against her sliding crotch.  "Stick yer fingers in yer hungry pussy, think of this _thick cock_ an' _stick yer fingers in_ _an' pretend it's **me**_."

Clenching his shaft, the girl desperately groped with her other hand and thrust in her forefinger and second finger.  That was all it took.  " _AH!_ "  Her vaginal walls violently contracted around her fingers with ecstasy on the brink of pain.  Lydia gasped and cried out incoherently.

"Yeah, yeah, soak me with yer cum, holy fuck, my Lyds is actually _cumin_ '."

Shuddering, the girl focused on his erection, deep maroon to its root, the precum drooling down his slit.  Her nostrils grabbed his husky male scent.  With what strength she had left, she commanded, "Now _you_."

"Ya better wrap my cock in a towel, I'm gonna shoot _gallons_."

"I want to see."

"It'll get...," his hoarse voice quavered, "messy."

_"I want to see you cum_."

Panting, his salivating tongue tip probing as if longing for Lydia's clit, Beetlejuice's hips pumped like a piston while the girl squeezed his cock down and up, with all her might. 

"Think about shoving my thighs apart," Lydia begged, "climbing on top of me, pushing this monster in, slow, because you're _huge_ , then _faster_..."

"I _am_ , aw _gawd_..."

When Lydia saw his eyes glowing like a furnace, rimmed flame-red, and heard his gravelly, prurient whine, she lapped his balls.

" _Lydia_ , FUCK **YES**."  Beetlejuice threw back his head and drove his fingernails into the sofa cushions with such force they punctured them. Lydia held her breath with amazement, feeling the pulse in his cockshaft and watching the milky substance erupting from its tip.  He grunted repeatedly, so strongly the girl feared he was in pain, and more shots flew, puddling on his chest and gut.  Heaving breaths as if he'd scaled Mount Everest,  his hips dropped as the last spurts dribbled onto Lydia's hands.

Still weak from her own orgasm, she thought, with utter satisfaction, _He came as hard as I did._   She lay her head against his knee, exhausted.

"Babes."  She could barely hear him.  "C'mere."

Beetlejuice's hands invited her in.  She rose on unsteady knees.  He clasped her face and pulled her to his mouth.  Lydia collapsed on top of him as they kissed, deeply.  His lips were surprisingly soft.  When she fantasied about kissing him she'd wondered whether his teeth would get in the way, but that wasn't a problem.  _This is my first kiss with him,_ she thought, tightening her arms around his neck as his hands caressed her waist.  They continued until they both had to come up for air.

Beetlejuice petted her head down to rest on his shoulder.  Her right hand, pressed on his still heaving chest, felt his heart thudding.  _How strange, that a dead man can be so alive_ , she wondered, curling his gut into her waist.  _How wonderful._

"Well."  Beetlejuice swallowed.  "Did not think _that_ was gonna happen."  He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

"Neither did I."  Her fingers stroked his hair.  It wasn't as harshly dry as she thought it'd be.  She'd touched it before, but until now she hadn't registered that it was dry but soft, like old silk.

"I think yer experiment was a success.  But I wouldn't go inta detail when ya write it up."

Lydia bit her upper lip.  "I lied."

"Whut?"

"I don't have an assignment.  Well, I do.  But it's about the human respiratory system."

"Lyds!"  Beetlejuice pulled his head back and gave her a horrified expression.  She grinned meekly.  "Ya _lied_ t' me?  Ya manipulated me by tellin' a fib about studyin' th' male reproductive system?"  Dramatically, he held the back of his hand to his forehead, like a silent screen ingenue, and spoke in an ingenue's voice. "Tricking a poor, innocent poltergeist on his new couch in his own home! I am aghast and appalled!"

Lydia imitated his evil chuckle.  "And I'm the one who suggested you get this couch, and you fell for my nefarious plot!  Muh wah hah _ha!_   Now you are in my clutches!"

Beetlejuice tilted his head and looked at her with one eye.  "Seriously, this is why ya suggested th' couch?" he asked in his natural voice.

"Weeell, the other one was awfully uncomfortable.  And your coffin bed is only big enough for one person.  And...I didn't want to try this at home, because of the nosy busybody I live with."

" _Betrayed!_ "  With the ingenue's voice and his hand still to his forehead, Beetlejuice slid back in a sarcastic faint until he was lengthwise on the sofa.  Lydia moved with him, so she remained on top.  "I trusted you!  Now my innocence is compromised!  How will I move in Society draped in such _shame_?!"

Smirking, Lydia slow-clapped.

The ghost leered and wiggled his eyebrows while his raspy, deep voice returned. "You can _manipulate_ me like that any time ya want."  He clasped her, tight, locking them in a long, enthusiastic kiss.

"Oh."  Lydia lifted her chest enough to see what she felt.  Her dress front was covered with the prodigious amount of cum he'd sprayed on himself.

"Aw, yer dress."

She beamed.  "You really do like it?"

"Babes.  I like _you_ in it.  You could wear a burlap bag an' you'd be th' sexiest woman I've ever seen."  Beetlejuice's right hand drew back her bangs.  "Ya know I'm not lyin', doncha?  I'm not just sayin' this t' flatter ya."

"I know."  She sincerely did.  Lydia kissed his chest, then pulled the damp material away from her bra and laughed. "You _did_ say it'd get messy."  Still feeling a tinge of shyness, which was ridiculous at this point, she asked, "How much did you....shoot?"

Beetlejuice's gut rippled from his chuckle.  "More than I ever have before.  I'm not lyin' about _t_ _hat_ , either.  Jeezus, ya drained my balls so dry I'm lucky they didn't turn inta raisins."

"Considering their size, that's impossible."  Lydia sat up and sighed, because she didn't want to part from him.  "I better wash this here.  If I bring it home Delia's sure to smell it.  Then she'll think I'm dating, and _then_ she'll try to fix me up with Chad."

Beetlejuice's voice was sharp.  "She _whut_?"

Realizing what she'd said, Lydia reported, calmly, "Delia and Father think I should have a _boyfriend_ , so they want me to have dinner with the son of a business friend of theirs.  It screams arranged marriage louder than when your head spins."

"That schemin'..."  Beetlejuice gritted his green teeth.  "Ya don't need a _boyfriend_.  Ya got _me._ "

Seeing black smoke trickle from his nostrils, Lydia touched his nose tip.  "I am _not_ going to date."  She felt slightly ashamed at her delight as she observed, "You're jealous, and I haven't even met him."

Beetlejuice's eyebrows raised as if he'd only become aware of what he felt.  His voice thinned as he assured her, "I'm not gonna be one of those possessive assholes who thinks a woman is his property, I swear, Lyds."  He continued, morosely, "I want ya t' be happy, more than anythin'.  Even if it means......"  He looked like a puppy watching its owner walk away.

Lydia grabbed him around his neck.  "I _am_ happy.  _Stupidly_ happy! And...I've always _liked_ your jealousy.  _I've_ always felt the same way about _you_."

The ghost perked.  "Yeah?"

""Yes!"  She kissed all over his face as he beamed.

Beetlejuice sunk his fingers into her hair.  "Stay th' night," he whispered.

Lydia didn't want to leave him.  But she knew what being with him, in his bed, would make her want to do.  She shivered, wondering if she could handle the intrusion of his huge cock, no matter how much she wanted it.

"It's okay."   His strokes gentled her.  "We could just sleep, but it'd be hard."  They looked at each other, then laughed.  Wryly, Beetlejuice admitted,  'Yeah, shit, it'd be _hard_ , alright."

"So, we'll wait?"  Her tone pleaded for reassurance.

"We'll wait."  To seal their agreement, they kissed.

Over the years, Lydia had left clothes in the Roadhouse, so she could go directly from Miss Shannon's to here, and change out of her school uniform. She'd grown out of some of them.  Thankfully, there was a pair of black tights and a red, baggy t-shirt she'd left recently.  After putting her clothes in the washing machine -- only Jacques and Ginger used it, Beej never touched the thing -- Lydia took a shower in the bathroom he kept remarkably clean, for her benefit.

As the warm water sprayed in her face, she suddenly realized, in full, the concessions he'd made in his life to better suit her needs and tastes, without her ever asking for them.  She hadn't made as many for him.  Up until this point, that made sense; she had been a child, he was an adult.

The realization also hit her that she could never simply sleep with him anymore.  As a kid, she'd often fallen asleep against him.  She always woke up either in her bed at home, safely under the covers, or in his coffin bed, alone under his thin blanket.  There was never a whiff of anything untoward.  But now, after today, could they enjoy that simplicity again?

Her childhood had faded and her life had moved into another, more complicated phase, an outcome Lydia hadn't predicted.  Grateful for the rushing water washing away her conflicted tears, Lydia determined she'd be more aware of Beetlejuice's generosity and the possible changes she might create without thinking.  _I don't want to lose him._

Returning to the communal living room after dressing and putting her clothes in the dryer, Lydia found Beetlejuice still lying on the couch, wearing his trousers and his open shirt.  Gleeful, she sprang on top of him, giggling.

"Wait."  The girl touched his hairy chest.  "You're dry.  Oh my god, did you actually _clean_ yourself?"

"What'd ya think I was gonna do, walk around with dried cum on me?  I may be a slob, beautiful, but I'm not a health hazard."  Beetlejuice paused.  "Well, not when you're around, mostly."

Stretching full length on him, she played with his hair.  "We are _so_ lucky Jacques and Ginger won those tickets."

The poltergeist snorted and smirked.

"Whaaat?" The girl pretended to hold down his arms, which were crossed under his head.  "I recognize that look!  Beetlejuice, did you pull a con to get those tickets?"

"Awww, babes, ya know me so well."  He chuckled playfully.  "Naw, I didn't pull a con.  I won a bet, fair an' square."

"What kind of bet?"  Lydia had played the scolding moral force in their friendship, which only was acceptable because they both knew she loved his deviousness.

"Welp..." Holding her so she wouldn't fall off him, the ghost sat up.  As she sat beside him, folding her legs under her, his fingers dug around in his right trouser pocket.  "I was in a bar, havin' a brew, ya know, as one does.  An' th' bartender was braggin' about havin' tickets to th' Dance-A-Thon an' not even wantin' them."

"Aaaand?" said Lydia.

Beetlejuice extracted a Living world nickel from the pocket and showed it to her.  "I bet him me juicin' anyone of his choosin' fer revenge against two tickets that I could make this coin move three feet, without touchin' it, without juicin' it, without havin' someone else touch it for me."

The girl took it from him and examined it.  "It's a regular nickel."  Crunching her face distrustfully, she said, "What's the trick?"

"Babes, do I always have to have a trick?"

"Yes.  Yes, you do."

"I didn't!"  He grinned fiendishly.  "Didn't have t'.  Watch."

Beetlejuice strolled over to the TV set.  "Say this is th' bar.  Now, th' real bar is about three feet high.  Got me?"

"Okaaay..."

"I placed th' nickel on th' corner of the bar."  Beetlejuice placed the coin atop the set and took his hands away, holding them out for her to see.  He announced as if playing to a bar audience, "I will now make this nickel move three feet without touchin' it.  No string, no wires, nothin'."

Lydia made a drum roll sound while hitting her thighs like instruments.

Beetlejuice turned to his pretend audience to his left and pulled up his left sleeve.  "Nothin' there."  He turned to the imaginary bar patrons to his right and pulled up his right sleeve.  "An' nothin' in there."

The ghost bent over and blew air at the nickel.  It fell straight down to the floor.  Throwing his arms wide he yelled, "Taa daa!"

Lydia cracked up.  "But that's dishonest!"

"No, it's not!"  Setting his fists on his hips, Beetlejuice demanded, "I made it move three feet, right?"

"Well, technically, yes."

"Nothing 'technical' about it!  I didn't say what direction it'd move. Just that it'd move.  An' that I, meaning my physical body, wouldn't make it move by comin' inta contact with it.  Which I didn't.  _Right?_ "

Lydia laughed as loudly as Bertha.  "Oh god, did they chase you out of the bar?"

"Naw.  Th' bartender paid up two tickets."  Beetlejuice paused.  " _Then_ they chased me outta th' bar."

As he sat down beside her, wrapping his right arm around her waist and clutching her close, Lydia asked, "But why did you want the tickets so much?  You like Jacques and Ginger, but, I _know you_.  You don't go out of your way like that for anyone."  Shyly, she amended, "Except me."

His half-lidded eyes and sly grin made her mind work.  As it dawned on her Lydia said, "You got the tickets because...you wanted to be alone with me?  Here?  Today?"

"Yeah."

"But you couldn't have known what I was planning!  I didn't tell anyone!"

The poltergeist's forefinger traced her lips.  "Yer not th' only one who's been schemin'."

Lydia held her breath.  " _What_ were you scheming?"

Beetlejuice looked particularly, seductively, sinister.  " _I_ was gonna seduce _you_."

She gaped with delighted shock.  "You planned to try to _seduce_ me?"

" _To_ seduce you."  The ghost pulled down the t-shirt's large neckline until the tops of her breasts greeted him.

" _Try_ to," Lydia emphasized.  Play-acting Victorian indignation and haughtiness, she huffed, "Wicked sir, what if the innocent young lady had said _no_?"

"Based on th' signals she was beamin' at me, I figured seduction would be more than welcome. And, oh, I can be very," Beetlejuice's tongue snaked out and delved into the trench of her cleavage, then snapped up with a curl on its end as he rasped, " _slick_."

Lydia locked him in her arms and kissed him, hard, ready to spend this night, and the next.

Delia's distant voice sing-sang, "Ly-di-AH!"

"Oh, god, no," groaned the girl.

"Not now!" snarled Beetlejuice.

Whenever Lydia wasn't certain what time one or both of her parents might arrive home when she was at the Roadhouse, Beetlejuice kept his bedroom and hall doors open, so their return could be heard through his bureau mirror, which, as with all mirrors in his Living world haunting territory, was linked to the Deetzes' entrance foyer mirror.  This gave the girl enough time to return home through the portal before they came looking for her.

Sighing, Beetlejuice loosened his grip.  "Ya gotta go."

Lydia was so irritated and disappointed tears rose in the corners of her eyes.  She half-heatedly punched his chest.  "Don't you go acting all responsible on me."

"Whut'd ya tell me, more than a couple times?"  He spoke in her voice, "If my parents find out about you, they won't let me see you anymore."

"Using my own words against me.  I hate you."  As his fingers wiped away the single tear sliding down her flushed cheek, she pouted, "You are now my nemesis.  I will have to engage you at dawn."

"You can engage me any time ya desire, my beautiful babes, but not _this_ dawn."  Beetlejuice added, holding her face and licking his lips, "When yer _ready_ fer that dawn, let me know immediately."

As they hungrily kissed they heard Delia bray, "Lydia! We're home from New York!  We have luggage you could help us with, if you were paying the least bit of attention, oh, god, Charles, don't even _try_ to get that up the steps, you'll get a hernia, you don't want a hernia like Edwin--"

"Please go home an' shut her up before I juice some duct tape," said Beetlejuice.

"Don't walk me to the portal, I can't bear it."  After unlocking the front door, Lydia paused and glanced at him.  He looked as miserable as she felt.  "I'll see you again?"

"Lyds!"  Beetlejuice laughed.  " _Try_ t' get rid of me!"

She grinned.  "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Take yer pick!"

Lydia paused.  Her expression mirrored Beetlejuice's scheming one.  "How about, next time, _you_ be the Researcher and _I'll_ be the Test Subject?"

The ghost leered happily.  "I think there's gonna be more homework."

********************

" _There_ you are!"  Delia stepped aside as Lydia walked down the front steps and took the luggage from her gasping father.  "I swear sometimes you're in another dimension!"

Grasping her father's hand and helping him up from the step were he'd semi-collapsed, Lydia asked, sweetly, "How was New York?"

"New York," said Charles as he stumbled through the front door, which he considered all the description necessary.

"We met with Dean Lowell."  Delia followed close behind as Lydia wheeled the luggage into the living room.  "He would love to meet you. And so would his son."  She clapped her palms together excitedly.  "We could have them come up next week!  Oh, let's have them up next week!"

_Ugh_ , Lydia thought, rolling her eyes, _she's only just walked in the door and she's starting already._   "Mother, I said _no_!"

"You'd _like_ him!"

"Father!"  Lydia's glare demanded that he side with her against this injustice.

"Bathroom," said Charles, and escaped down the hall.

Asserting herself, Delia said, "I _can_ invite them whether you like it or not."

"Mother..."  Lydia stopped as inspiration struck.  "How about a bet?"

"A _bet_?" Delia scoffed.  "I don't make _bets_.  When have I ever been a betting person?  Charles!" she yelled. "Have I _ever_ bet on anything?"

"Only marriage," was his muffled reply from the bathroom down the hall.

In her mind Lydia saw one of the expressions of Beetlejuice's, her lover's, that she adored the most: when he was rubbing his hands together, licking his lips, and chortling over a scheme. "We make a bet, and if you win, the Lowells come to visit.  But if I win, not only _won't_ they come, but you'll stop _bugging_ _me_ about it!  Agreed?"

Delia crossed her arms.  "This is _so_ not like you I'm going to take it seriously.  All right.  Bet's on."

"You'll stick with the outcome, win or lose?  You _promise_?"

"You have my word!"

Lydia grinned and held out her hand.  "First, I need a nickel."

 

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story in my head while waiting for the bus and walking home from the train station, because writing head canon porny fics is what one does on public transportation.
> 
> Many thanks to my editor, blackwingsblackheart, for her feedback and advice on yet another project that isn't professional.
> 
> The bet with the nickel is something I invented during my dissolute teen years. It won me several free Coca-Colas.


End file.
